Fish finger sandwiches chapter one 8-10 years

The goldfish was dead.

That's D. E. A. D

Stiff as a board.

Not even a superhero could bring the goldfish back to life. Isabel had very carefully considered several including.

Superman.

Wonder Woman.

Batman.

James Bond.

And even the Queen of England. None of the above were good contenders unless she wanted the world saving. It was too late for Ob.

A single tear rolled down her face and dropped into the water as Isabel stood over the fish bowl. She reached into the small round tank and hooked out his floating body with her bestist hair scrunchy and laid him down on a packet of empty monster Munch, roast beef flavour of course. .

“Why now,” She asked herself, why did the only thing she love have to leave so suddenly. Not even a goodbye.

“Grandfather!” screeched Isabel at the top of her voice as she stood there alone in her room looking down at her bestist friend. Regardless of her step grandmother’s continuous demands, Isabel refused to call him Grandad. Grandad just did not seem to hold the same respect that she felt he deserved.

“It's Ob!” called Isabel. He's not well. She had seen many animals dying on that TV program, pet rescue save me or something like that but she had never seen it happen in real life. Isabel had no idea what to do. She considered sticking him under the grill just in case he needed warming up but there seem to be two problems with that. Firstly Isabel did not know how to turn on the grill, she was only ten and what if she put the oven on by mistake and burnt him to a cinder. Secondly with all the clunking going on in the kitchen she knew her step grandmother was in there, cooking food for herself. She couldn't risk being caught by her.

Isabel's grandfather made his way into her room tripping over one, my little pony, two half eaten jelly babies, both with their heads missing and a box of chewed at the end colouring in pencils. Even with a half sucked humbug sweets stuck to the bottom of his Marks and Spencer slipper Isabel was quite impressed at his speed.

“It's Ob,” said Isabel, I don't think he's well.” She had tried so desperately to attempt mouth-to-mouth resuscitation by blowing into the fish-bowl but all he seemed to do was crash into the side of the glass.

Her grandfather took one look at her sad face as he shared her pain and sorrow. He knew he had to be the bearer of bad news for the second time in her 10 year life. The first time of course was the hardest. How do you tell a five-year-old child that both her mother and father didn't survive the car crash? He sucked on his false teeth as he pondered on the right words to use.

“I am sorry dear, “said her grandfather as he picked the humbug from the bottom of his slipper. “It looks like Ob has passed away.” He then turned to the doorway and shouted for Vera. “come and help!”

At first Isabel let out a gigantic shriek. It was so loud that her Grandfather couldn’t ever recall hearing anything like it, not even when he served in the Second World War. Then the tears followed. No matter how much she cried she could still hear her step grandmother’s footsteps unwillingly marching down the hallway.

Isabel step grandmother, better known to Isabel as stinky made every effort not to leave the sofa if she could help it. Fat and sluggish she even demanded Isabel cut her toenails because she couldn't reach. Of course Isabel continuously refused. It took all her effort just to be in the same room as stinky and even more to strike up a conversation.

The only time stinky ever seemed to make any noise was when she was making a hot chocolate. She always let out a grunt of delight as she added… well read the list for yourself.

One and a half packets of marshmallows

A tin of full fat cream to her already sweetened drink.

Three chocolate flakes

Half a tub of one hundred and one’s

And last but most important, a shiny red cherry on top

Stinky apparently had the nickname tubs at school because she was so fat. Isabel was never brave enough to call her that to her face, not even her grandfather dare utter such words and he was a former soldier.

Isabel could tell her step grandmother was standing in the doorway, she could smell the aroma of lazy sweat and fish finger sandwiches with brown sauce and a dollop of peanut butter. Stinky loved nothing more than fish finger sandwiches for breakfast, dinner, and tea. She refused to eat anything else. It had once been rumoured that she did try a ham salad on a Monday but then she threw up for the rest of the week.

Even now as she stood in the doorway, stinky held a large, freshly made, fish finger brown sauce and peanut butter sandwich. She held it tightly in one hand so she didn't drop a single crumb 'whilst scratching her bum with the other hand.

Stinky was well known for wearing the worst clothing in the world. She always wore the brightest pink tracksuit top with matching bottoms and a large pair of slippers in the shape of cheeseburgers.

“About blooming time,” Said stinky spitting her mouthful of fish finger sandwiches everywhere. Isabel's grandfather shot her a stern look as he stood by her side. “Oh my, how depressing, it's absolutely heartbreaking to see the unfortunate tiny little sprat has snuffed it.”

Stinky walked over to her step-granddaughter and stared down at the dead fish. “Wouldn't make a very big Sarney, no point me putting oven on-for that,” she added with a smile of delight and a wonky left eye bearing down to her face. A small peanut had made its way out of the sandwich and rested itself on the side of Stinky’s chin. It was stuck there like a dried up old wart. It almost confirmed Isabel's suspicion that stinky was really a witch. Even her grandfather had to have a chuckle to himself even though he couldn't believe how cold hearted she was.

Isabel's grandfather once mentioned that stinky could even give Hannibal Lecter a run for his money. Despite her laughing at the time she had no idea who Hannibal Lecter was. Maybe he was the politician her grandfather knew at his Freemasons evening. But then she seemed to think it might be the funny vegetarian man, who lives at number ten.